Tanner Trilogy 03 - Backstreet Child Page 14

  Billy had relaxed more now that they were alone and he was looking around the little tea room with interest. Old pictures hung on the walls and delicious-looking homemade cakes were displayed on circular glass stands on the counter. Blue chintz tablecloths and matching curtains reminded him of a doll’s house, and the raffia mats on the well-scrubbed wooden floor added to the charm of the little establishment. He could smell baking and it reminded him of the rock cakes and apple pies his mother used to make when he was living at home.

  Billy sighed. There was so much to tell, so much to say, and so little time. One thing was sure though, he resolved. He would definitely not tell Annie about his new evening job at the Kings Arms.

  ‘Come on, Billy. We must get back to the children,’ Annie said suddenly. ‘I want them all to give you a big kiss before you leave. I’d like to say goodbye too, and I expect more than a kiss.’

  Chapter Eleven

  Carrie crossed the yard with the mid-morning tea for Jamie Robins and Rachel, wondering what it was the young clerk wanted to see her about. He had approached her as soon as he arrived that morning, looking a little uncomfortable as he made his request. Carrie had been busy with the daily delivery sheets and had promised to see him as soon as she could.

  She entered the office and Jamie looked up, glancing briefly at Rachel, who gave him an encouraging smile.

  ‘Drink yer tea an’ then we can talk,’ Carrie told him, noticing the look which had passed between him and her daughter.

  Rachel leaned back in her chair and sipped the hot tea, her eyes straying to the nervous-looking young clerk. She felt a wave of pity for him and wondered what had made him come to the decision. He was such a quiet, studious young man and pathetically shy. He must be feeling frightened. What pressures had been exerted on him to make him come to such a decision? she wondered.

  Rachel swung her chair round to face the pile of papers on her desk and pretended to study them. Poor Jamie. How different he was to Derek, she thought. Her young man had excelled himself during their brief few days at Brighton. He had been a wonderful lover, attentive and considerate, as well as being very careful. She smiled to herself as she remembered how she had finally managed to get a promise from him to approach her mother on his next leave to ask about getting engaged.

  Carrie had slipped out to talk to Joe who was busy in the yard, and when she returned Rachel got up and left the office to go over to the house, leaving Jamie alone with her mother.

  ‘Yer wanted ter see me, Jamie?’ Carrie asked, sitting down in Rachel’s office chair.

  The young clerk coloured slightly as he turned his swivel chair round to face her. ‘I was wonderin’ ’ow much progress yer’d made wiv the exemption papers, Mrs Bradley,’ he said.

  ‘It’s Mrs Maitland now,’ she reminded him with a disarming smile.

  Jamie got more flustered. ‘I’m sorry, I . . .’

  ‘It’s all right, I’ve got ter get used to it meself,’ she laughed. ‘Yer want ter know about the papers. Well, I’ve filled in the application form an’ they’ve sent back anuvver form fer me ter fill in. It’s gonna take some time, Jamie, but I shouldn’t worry too much. I fink we’ll manage it.’

  The young man fiddled with his pen and his face became more flushed. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Bradley, I mean Mrs Maitland, but I’ve decided ter volunteer fer the army,’ he said, looking down at his ink-stained fingers.

  Carrie was taken aback and she stared at him for a moment or two before replying. ‘But why, Jamie?’ she asked, puzzled.

  ‘I couldn’t live wiv meself if I dodged the call-up,’ he replied. ‘Most o’ the young men my age are goin’ in the services an’ it jus’ wouldn’t be right.’

  ‘What about yer parents, Jamie? Who’s gonna support ’em?’ Carrie asked. ‘You’re the breadwinner. It takes a lot o’ courage fer a young man like you ter support a family. Yer not a coward, an’ in any case yer shouldn’t take notice o’ what people might say.’

  Jamie looked up at her. ‘My dad’s got work now, an’ I can send a few shillin’s ’ome. Then there’s the army allowance fer me muvver,’ he replied. ‘They’ll be no worse off than a lot of ovver people.’

  ‘’Ave yer told yer parents what yer intend ter do?’ Carrie asked.

  Jamie nodded. ‘They understand. I ’ad a long talk wiv ’em over the weekend. The only fing I’m worried about is lettin’ yer down.’

  Carrie gave him a reassuring smile. ‘Well, I’m not gonna say I won’t miss yer, Jamie,’ she told him, ‘but I wouldn’t try ter dissuade yer, if yer sure yer know what yer doin’.’

  ‘I’m sure,’ he said firmly. ‘I wanted ter tell yer before I actually go ter the recruitin’ office. I’m sorry, Mrs Maitland, but it’s somefing I’ve gotta do.’

  ‘That’s all right, Jamie,’ she replied. ‘Jus’ remember ter keep in touch. Come an’ see us when yer get leave. Oh, an’ remember there’ll be a job ’ere fer yer when the war’s over.’

  ‘Fank yer, Mrs Maitland, I really appreciate it,’ he said, sagging a little with relief for having unburdened himself.

  Rachel walked back into the office at that moment and stood between Jamie and her mother. ‘So ’e’s told yer,’ she said smiling broadly. ‘Our Jamie’s gonna be a soldier.’

  Carrie could see the young man’s obvious discomfort and she gave her daughter a disapproving look. Rachel was always pulling Jamie’s leg, which tended to embarrass him, though Carrie knew that there was no malice intended and in fact Rachel really felt very fond of him. ‘Well, now we’ve got everyfing sorted out, what about you gettin’ those wages done, Rachel, and lettin’ Jamie get on with the accounts,’ she growled. ‘Remember I’ve got a business ter run.’

  Dolly Dawson had collected the children from school and when she walked back into the house there was a surprise awaiting her. On the parlour table she saw a steel helmet, a service gas mask and whistle complete with a white lanyard. The helmet was emblazoned with the letters ARP. Dolly sat down heavily and stared at the equipment with concern. Dennis and Leslie were already fighting over who should wear the helmet while Joyce was puffing on the whistle trying to produce a noise. ‘Now leave ’em alone, can’t yer?’ Dolly screamed at them. ‘If yer farvver sees yer playin’ wiv those there’ll be trouble.’

  ‘’As Dad joined the army?’ Joyce asked her mother.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Leslie shouted at her. ‘It ses ARP on there,’ he pointed to the helmet.

  ‘What’s ARP mean?’ Joyce asked, scratching at her head.

  ‘I dunno,’ Leslie said, snatching the whistle from his young sister. ‘It’s nuffink ter do wiv the army though. Besides, Dad can’t be in the army, ’e’s an ole lag.’

  ‘What’s an ole lag?’ Joyce asked, still scratching her head.

  ‘It means yer too old fer the army,’ Dennis butted in.

  Dolly pulled her daughter towards her and quickly searched through the child’s hair. Suddenly she clicked her tongue. ‘That’s the second time this week she’s come ’ome wiv nits,’ she growled to the boys. ‘Right, Dennis, run down the oil shop an’ get us a pint o’ paraffin. Leslie, put the kettle on. I must find that toof comb. Now where’d I put it?’

  Joyce watched her mother searching through the dresser drawers and she started crying, knowing the tortures in store for her. First there would be a hard head wash, then the paraffin would be put on and combed through her tangled hair. Last of all, and the worst torture, was the fine-toothed comb, which pulled down on her hair and hurt her already tingling scalp. ‘I don’t want it washed, Mum,’ she moaned.

  ‘Now don’t give me any trouble, Joyce, I gotta delouse yer, or we’ll all be cooty before the week’s out,’ Dolly shouted at her.

  Joyce settled down in one corner with her favourite doll, quietly awaiting her ordeal while Dolly turned out another drawer. Soon Dennis came running in with the paraffin.

  ‘Mum, Mum, there’s a big bloke got ’old o’ Wallace an’ ’e won’t let ’im go,’ h
e shouted.

  Dolly let the drawer contents clatter onto the floor in her vexation. ‘Where is ’e?’

  ‘’E’s up by the paper stall,’ Dennis replied, still gasping for breath.

  Dolly sighed deeply as she slipped on her coat and hurried from the house. Things had been too quiet of late, she told herself. Something had been bound to happen.

  As she rushed up to the end of the turning, Dolly could see a group of people standing outside the corner shop and in the centre was Wallace, standing quietly with his head bowed. Beside him was an elderly man who had hold of the young man’s forearm and looked the more frightened of the two. On the other side of the turning, Dolly saw Maudie Mycroft and Maisie Dougall standing together watching the spectacle.

  ‘What’s ’e done?’ she asked them breathlessly.

  ‘I dunno, luv,’ Maisie answered. ‘I ’eard the bloke say ’e’s pinched a bunch o’ bananas from Gosnell’s the greengrocers.’

  ‘Poor little sod,’ Maudie said with feeling.

  Dolly pushed her way into the circle. ‘I’m ’is muvver. What’s’e done?’ she asked.

  A large woman wearing a coarse apron with a money belt sewn into it put her hands on her lips belligerently. ‘’E come in my shop while I was busy an’ picked up an ’andful o’ bananas,’ she shouted at Dolly. ‘The cowson didn’t fink I see ’im take ’em, but I did. We’ve sent fer the police. Mr Roberts caught ’im, didn’t yer, luv?’

  The elderly man nodded, wishing now that he had not taken any notice when the large woman shouted at him to stop the young man as she came waddling after him.

  ‘Where’s the bananas, Wallace?’ Dolly asked him in a quiet voice.

  The young man’s face contorted as he wriggled to get away from the clutches of the elderly man and saliva dripped down onto his coat lapel. ‘I ain’t got bananas,’ he slurred, his eyes looking appealing towards his mother.

  ‘All right, let ’im go,’ Dolly said firmly. ‘Yer can see ’e ain’t got any bananas on ’im. Yer must ’ave made a mistake.’

  ‘Well, ’e took ’em, ’cos I see ’im take ’em,’ the large greengrocer said with venom.

  ‘Well, ’e ain’t got ’em now, so where’s yer proof?’ Dolly asked her.

  ‘P’raps ’e’s ate ’em,’ a bystander remarked.

  ‘Chucked ’em more like,’ another cut in.

  ‘Bloody idiot wouldn’t know what ter do wiv ’em anyway,’ a scruffy-looking woman with a headful of curlers butted in.

  ‘Who you callin’ an idiot?’ Dolly screamed at her.

  People began milling about as the arguing intensified and the elderly gent decided it was an opportune time to lose his grip on Wallace’s arm. Dolly meanwhile was being pulled away from the scruffy-looking woman by other bystanders and by the time the police car pulled up she had managed to grab a handful of curlers from her opponent’s head. The elderly man had made a discreet exit and Mrs Gosnell was picking herself up from the pavement after one of Dolly’s flailing arms had sent her sprawling.

  ‘Now what’s all this?’ a policeman said sternly, hands on his belt.

  Mrs Gosnell brushed herself down as she confronted him. ‘This bloody idiot come in my shop an’ pinched an ’andful o’ me best bananas,’ she shouted. ‘I gave chase but Mr Roberts caught’im.’

  ‘Who pinched yer bananas?’ the policeman enquired, beginning to feel that he had been sent on a fool’s errand.

  Mrs Gosnell looked around. ‘The bleeder’s scarpered,’ she shouted, glaring at the crowd. ‘Didn’t any o’ yer see ’im go?’

  ‘I did. ’E went that way,’ Maisie called out, pointing in the general direction of Jamaica Road.

  ‘Ooh, Maisie, be careful,’ Maudie whispered to her friend, knowing that she was giving the police false information.

  ‘Did yer recover the bananas?’ the policeman asked the greengrocer.

  ‘Mr Roberts caught ’im,’ she replied.

  ‘Yeah, but did yer get yer fruit back?’ the exasperated constable asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘But yer caught ’im.’

  ‘Mr Roberts did.’

  ‘Did ’e recover the bananas?’

  ‘Mr Roberts ’as scarpered too,’ one of the onlookers chimed in.

  ‘Now look, I can’t stand ’ere all day over a bunch o’ bloody bananas,’ the policeman sighed. ‘Yer got no culprit, no witness, an’ no evidence. What am I s’posed ter do?’

  ‘Go an’ find the fievin’ git,’ Mrs Gosnell shouted at him.

  ‘All right, give us a description,’ he asked, pulling out a tatty notebook from his breast pocket.

  ‘’E was a dopey-lookin’ git, about this ’igh,’ the greengrocer said, holding her hand up, ‘an’ ’e pulls faces.’

  ‘’Ere, that’s my boy yer talking’ about,’ Dolly shouted at the woman, trying to push her way in front of the policeman. ‘My Wallace ain’t dopey at all, ’e’s just a bit backward. There ain’t a bad bone in ’is body.’

  ‘Right, that’s enough,’ the policeman said loudly, turning to Dolly. ‘Now let’s ’ave yer name an’ address.’

  ‘Look, I’ll pay fer the bananas ter save any trouble,’ she offered.

  Mrs Gosnell looked slightly abashed, beginning to feel that perhaps people would consider her petty if she took things any further. ‘There’s no need fer that,’ she said puffing. ‘I jus’ want’im ter keep out o’ my shop in future.’

  The policeman put his notebook away. ‘Right then, let’s all move on,’ he said firmly. ‘Yer blockin’ the pavement.’

  Dolly walked over to Maisie and Maudie. ‘Fanks fer that, luv,’ she said to Maisie. ‘That son o’ mine’s gonna drive me into an early grave, I’m sure of it.’

  ‘The lad didn’t mean any ’arm,’ Maisie said kindly. ‘’E could’ave fergotten ter pay.’

  ‘It’s only ’er word ’e took the bananas,’ Dolly replied.

  ‘’E took ’em right enough,’ Maisie told her with a large grin. ‘The lad come scootin’ round the corner an’ ’e took the bananas out from under ’is coat an’ chucked ’em in Mrs Perry’s front door. Jus’ then ole Mr Roberts came out o’ the shop there. That Gosnell woman shouted fer ’im ter grab yer lad an’ ’e did. Mind you, the boy was jus’ standin’ there grinnin’. Ter be honest, luv, I ’ad ter laugh. Ole Roberts looked scared out of ’is life.’

  ‘Gawd ’elp us,’ Dolly groaned as she rubbed her forehead, picturing Wallace cowering under the stairs that very minute.

  Maudie had been listening to Maisie’s tale of the event and suddenly she nudged her friend. ‘Talk about the Lord providin’,’ she said. ‘Look over there.’

  Mrs Perry’s two youngest had emerged from their house and were sitting on the kerbside, both munching on a huge banana.

  ‘I don’t fink the poor little sods ’ave ’ad many o’ them, if yer ask me,’ Maisie remarked with a chuckle.

  Josiah Dawson had decided long before he regained his freedom that he was going to put his past life behind him and become a good husband and father. He had also decided that upon release he would work hard to become a good citizen and upstanding member of the little community in which he now lived. The first step was to get a job, which he had managed to do very soon after his return from Dartmoor. It was hard work labouring for a builder, but he had built up his muscles working in the slate quarries in Devon and he found that he could cope with the demands of digging and mixing cement. Being a devoted husband took a little more thought and expertise, he realised, and to that end he had promised himself that first and foremost he would not get drunk any more. After all, it had been the cause of all his troubles in the past.

  Josiah kept his promise, remembering how Dolly had been the recipient of a few backhanders in the past, always when he was the worse for drink. Things were looking very good at the moment, he thought to himself. Dolly was showing him a lot of loving, and she had been very loyal. She might well have taken a lover while he was incarcerated, and it wou
ld have been understandable. Dolly was a hot-natured woman, he knew, and she had been alone for quite a lengthy period of time. She had assured him, however, that he was the only one for her, despite everything, and Josiah believed her implicitly.

  Being a devoted father was even harder than being a devoted husband. The children were growing up and needed his time, which was already trying his patience. Then there was Wallace. The young man was slowly deteriorating, according to Dolly, and Josiah knew she was right. He was constantly falling against the furniture as he ambled about the house and his speech was getting more and more slurred. He was finding it difficult to hold a knife and fork properly and Dolly now had to cut up his food into manageable pieces. Wallace was trying his patience to the limit, but Josiah had sworn to himself that never again would he chastise the lad with the back of his hand as in the past. Instead, he would try very hard to be more like Dolly, who he felt had the patience of a saint and never seemed to let things get her down.